Archive for the ‘Memories & Melancholy’ Category

My TV-movie Family

Wednesday, September 21st, 2011

Let’s Cast My Childhood, 1964-1971

The MOSLANDERS::Who could play us in a made-for-TV movie about Ross-the-boss, Mrs Moss, and all the Little Landers??

My dad

James Garner

Is there really any actor who is more beautiful than James Garner? I mean, he stayed good looking,too. And he is a man’s man. And when he had his show The Rockford Files, my dad loved it because he had a similiar swagger. And I always thought of my dad as very handsome and put together, too, and definitly full of self-assured attitude. So, yes, James Garner could have played the role of my dad.

My mom

Barbara Stanwick

My mamala never wore one stitch of make-up in her life until retirement and barely now, so this younger, slightly less-than-ultra-glamorous version of Barbara Stanwick would work, more innocent. Barbara was always a little feisty, and my mom was and is just plain SWEET! She is a loving, forgiving, guile-less woman. She is truly beautiful, really gorgeous features, but never capitalized on them. To this day, she has a jawline women pay big money to try to get.

Little brother, Joey

Ernie from My Three Sons.

Joe. He had to get glasses in the 4th grade, I think. He was a cutie, really, always a fav with the girls. He had coarse, naturally wavy (a little bit curly) dark hair he tried to keep under control. He still has all his hair, though it is silvery with wisdom now. He was like-able and nice, a good friend and sweet brother who just had that awkward glasses stage for a time. But oh, I love him. Yes, Ernie from My Three Sons could be Joe in the TV version.

Little brother, Timmy

Little Ricky Nelson from Ozzie and Harriet

Irrepressible. Cute. And asked mom to shave his head on a couple of occasions, oddly.

Little sister, Tami

Buffy from Family Affair

Remember that show? Buffy was a twin to Jonny Whitaker? And she had a doll names Mrs. Beasley? Tami had that doll, too and was cute as a button, 6 years younger than me.

Baby brother, Danny

Timmy from Lassie.

Danny was the cute little cuddler. The baby. Mom’s little fella.

Finally ME, the firstborn!

Jodie Foster.

She played Danny Partridge’s girlfriend, Gloria, in an episode or two of my fav show. Her teeth, like mine, were a little big for her head and her hair was fine, like mine. And if she weren’t an actress with a make-up crew, I bet it would have been as stringy as mine, too. She was blonder, but yes, Jodies could play the role of Jeanie, I think.

The Real Moslanders, 1964

And in 1971

Tags: 1960s, 1970s, barbara stanwyck, buffy from family affair, ernie from my three sons, james garner, jodie foster, moslander, moslanders, ozzie and harriet, ricky nelson, the rockford files, timmy from lassie, tv
Posted in Making a List!, Memories & Melancholy, Mi Familia, Stuff I Actually Think | 6 Comments »

Forest for the Trees

Wednesday, September 14th, 2011

So, my crazy friend Bryan gave me perspective. Purely by accident on his part, right, Bry?

His family, always into baseball as the family sport, has slide reels of him hitting the baseball as young as four-years-old. I read on his post-birthday-blog (http://bryanyounger.wordpress.com/) that in his first official game he hit the ball and ran with all his might, but was put out at first. He cried and the coach comforted him. The next time he went to bat, the same thing happened. He cried and got more comfort.

What he didn’t realize was that he had driven in 4 runs on his two at-bats. Still, when he “got out,” he cried. Bryan could hit, he could catch, he could throw. And he could drive in runs, advancing his team, helping bring victory. But all he could see was his failure to be safe at first.

Stuck in the middle.

I am pretty sure the “enemy assignment” against my life, being a performance-oriented-slave-to-the-need-to-achieve type I seem to be, has just been to make sure I can never quite check all the things I want to off my list, nor see the end for the middle (the forest for the trees), nor feel like I completely did what I set out to do. I constantly judge my efforts to have missed the mark. In almost everything I do or am. In spite of so much goodness and favor, I have lists filling volumes of all the ways I did it wrong, missed the mark, disappointed, failed, folded and fizzled. I have a detailed record of my own wrongs and letters of apology to my most treasured ones of my carelessness, my meanness, my complete ineptitude at love and life and following Jesus in a way that at all reflects Him. I always say anyone but God would have thrown me on the scrap pile by now, but surprisingly, I am still surrounded my loving, forgiving people. Meanwhile, I remain certain I will botch it fully and finally.

But is it really over before the fat lady sings? Has it really been “a fail,” the current “in” phrase – any of it or all of it? Have I been the worst at everything, the person whose life has the least purpose, the person who never lived up to her God-given potential, am I the only non-home-run hitter?

I liked the phrase I heard a few years ago, “It is never too late to become the person you might have been.” And I have often encouraged young mommies and my friends with, “It is never too late to be the family you were meant to be,” and while I wholly believe it, I somehow tend towards seeing myself getting tagged out at first base and I am immediately overwhelmed, overcome, really, with a deep sense of being the world’s all-time most substantial disappointment. I guess if you are going to be awful, you may as well do it really well…

Wait for it. WAIT FOR IT.

But deep down, I know I am just somewhere in the middle – like everyone reading this. Proverbs 24 tells us that even when the righteous falls seven times (or gets thrown out at first base repeatedly), they get back up and keep going – you can’t keep them down. I love the Word of the LORD to Habakkuk, which I would like to re-phrase here, from 2.2-3. God is like,

Write this. Write it down and make it plain {the vision – the point, THE thing that it is all about at the end}.

Write it in a way that when you read it, it will energize you and feed your soul for the journey; so well put that it will give you the life and vitality and gusto to get all the way {running like a banshee} to the desired end (starting line to finish line, point A to point B, from once upon a time to forevermore). So you won’t just fizzle out along the way (in the middle somewhere). Know the vision inside and out, for crying out loud.

Because those deep desires in your heart? That thing planted deep {a covenant marriage that sizzles hot to the end, children who live to praise Jesus and serve Him wholeheartedly, grandchildren who rise up as men and women of God as the world continues its meaningless descent into godless madness; the rich opportunity to, as a friend of the Bridegroom, help get the Bride ready, the chance to feed the hungry and clothe the poor, be a blessing and live in the favor of God – bringing Him joy, ETC}, these things long to come to pass, they want to come to fruition with a deep ache (the whole creation is groaning for the completion of our adoption to sonship, so says Romans 8).

Watch and wait. Watch for it and don’t give up. The vision, the deep thing, speaks of the end. It is the whole goal, the final glory of it all. It is the fulfillment of the goodness of the LORD in our lives. It is what will stand when the dust has settled.

If it seems like it is slow in coming, wait for it. Wait :: lean forward in hopeful expectation, watching and anticipating. Instead of Are we there yet? ~ What’s next, Father?

It may seem late. It may seem long. But the end will be good and just as God has planned!

Yes, wait. It will surely come to pass.

Thanks, Bry. For the encouragement.

More at-bats to come. Let’s just keep swinging.

Tags: baseball, bryan younger, habakkuk 2.2-3, proverbs 24
Posted in JESUS, Lover of My Soul, Making a List!, Memories & Melancholy, Stuff I Actually Think | 5 Comments »

MOVIES : : I have added to the list

Monday, August 15th, 2011

There are movies I like that are in their whole own grouping.

I didn’t realize this list was so long until I actually started typing it. And I am not sure how to classify it, or what to call it.

This particular grouping – In common::

1:: They are movies that I saw with people I love when I was able to just take a break and get in to the story.

2:: They are period pieces, historical, but in a very recent sense.

3:: They have a message that touches my heart, and indeed may actually express something of the deep parts of my very soul. There is something in each that carries a sensibility I was born in to, a value I hold close to this day. And something that inspires me for the rest of my days on earth.

4:: There is almost always furniture or wallpaper or some accessory that one of my grandparents had in their houses. Or that my family owned, a hand-me-down, perhaps, or used, but useful item.

5:: And I love the characters and the colors and the accurate depiction of the time of which they speak. There is nothing worse to me than having a hippie (late 60s, early 70s) have a Rubik’s Cube (extremely late 70s) in their hands. Tsk, people.

6:: Oh, and the movie will almost always have a music track I just really love.

Basically, there is something of these movie I recognize and wholly relate to because of the times in which I have lived. Now Grace of My Heart {1996}, the quintessential inside-my-soul movie is very much like these in some ways, but is also kind of like its’ entirely whole category, so I didn’t list it. Here goes:

To Kill a Mockingbird, {1962}

Field of Dreams {1989}

Driving Miss Daisy {1989}

Avalon {1990}

Fried Green Tomatoes {1991}

A League of their Own {1992}

Corinna, Corinna {1994}

Shawshank Redemption {1994}

The Green Mile {1999}

The Notebook {2004}

More recently, Julie, Julia {2009}

To this list I am now adding The Help. {2011}

No Spoilers, no worries.

1:: Did I love it? I totally did! I saw it with Dave and Stormie, Tredessa and Ryan. First movie in a while because of a little thing I like to call Heaven Fest. I was ready, Qdoba in hand!

2:: My French teacher at Hammond High School (1976) told us many stories of her “mammy” who raised her on their North Carolina Plantation and explained that was just how “things were done.” Growing up in the 1960s, I have strong remembrances of the Civil Rights movement. At school, we watched some of Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches and I remember the sinking feeling I got when I heard he’d been killed. The flags were at half-mast and after the pledge of allegiance, our whole school observed a moment of silence. It spoke to me in a roar.

3:: Messages…Forgiving your enemy is hard. Leaving the theater I thought that, even though the movie was about exposing the hypocrisy of white rule and unjust laws toward other human beings, even in this movie (from a book by the same name), the savior was the white girl. A rich, white girl. And – Hilly, the worst of them all, she really isn’t so different than any of us {me} when we are crusading to get our way, our rights, our own viewpoint across. I have been on the receiving end of that horrid religious superiority, and sadly, I have probably been a perpetrator. And that is sad…

Best message in the movie, though? The one that nearly made me cry every time?

You is kind. You is smart. You is important.

4:: I remember women still wearing those same netted hats to church, with gloves, when I was very small. Oh yes I do. You did not know I was that old, dod you??? The “house dresses,” the aprons, the “modern furniture”

5:: Emma Stone was awesome. So were Viola Davis, Bryce Dallas Howard, Allison Janney and pretty much everyone else. Great cast, great sets. Pretty decent accents, too.

6:: The music in this one didn’t stand out to me a lot, yet. But we’ll see as I watch it again. Maybe it was just so perfect it was part of the whole movie-loving thing. Oh wait – I do remember some Johnny Cash, a little Bob Dylan and oh, Ray Charles!! And? I was singing along to “Victory Today is Mine” in the church scene (yes, sang it in church many times in my life). Hmmm…I think it must be a great soundtrack. Now I am excited to go back and see!

I relate to the movie. I connected with it. I cried several times and a lot at the end – probably more than anyone else because of the “writing” thing. And I never cry at movies. I won’t spoil. I just loved it.

Go see!

Tags: the help
Posted in Making a List!, Memories & Melancholy, Stuff I Actually Think, TV & Movies/Books & Entertainment | 6 Comments »

Moslander Reunion 2011 :: For the Mamala

Saturday, August 13th, 2011

Arriving in Chicago on a Friday night. We get real Chicago-style pizza near Midway Airport where planes fly just above our heads. Near the south shore in Hobart there is a wedding rehearsal with the other half of the family. We will all gather for a celebration of a new marriage on Saturday.

BBQs at Dan and Dawn’s, corn-holing competitions, waffle-ball in the backyard. Even the matriarch and patriarch got into the games! There was the beach at Lake Michigan and driving the old neighborhood. Remember 4995 Roosevelt Place and all the baseball dings in the side of the garage from the 3 Moslander boys? Oh, they are still there. Our giant spruce is nearly dead now, but there is the house, the one we all finally lived in together before growing up and moving away began. Schools and businesses and streets we travelled. A Vienna Red Hot at The Village Shopping Center. I could still smell J C Penney’s even though it hasn’t been there now for almost 20 years. My first real-life job was there.

Once green-grass, established neighborhoods with distinct ethnic identities, houses where people had lived for over 40 years in a thriving steel-mill industry and could be counted upon , like clockwork to be edging their perfect lawns at exactly 6:15 pm every Wednesday evening now have the signs of transience at best. Bars on inhabited house windows, boarded up openings on empty, beautiful brick homes on hills. You can buy a million-dollar Denver-type home there for $15,000, cash. So says the hand-written cardboard sign. The city waits to be revived.

But we remember our life and times.

And the vivid colors come flooding back and our hearts are warm in the remembrance. These were good times and good places. This is where we finished growing up and where our parents had to let us go. There are altars in every direction, signs that point to God’s faithfulness in our lives.

Jordan and Alise start their life as husband and wife. We dance and eat and make merry. We see old friends and catch up on 30 or so years.

Joe and Robin and their family couldn’t come this year. We are remembering them always, bringing them up constantly, missing their presence…

The boys wrestle and play pool and work out to get pumped up. I give my mom a perm, which, though a bit kinky to begin with, of course, turns out just fine. I get lots of time with Averi & Amelie Belle and they are truly the “belles of the ball!”

Southlake Worship Center – home church

We got to attend church at Southlake on Sunday. So sweet. More on that later. But Pastor Sam Abbott and congregation welcomed us fully. Rocky and Tara led worship, with a small acoustic, all-family band. It was lovely.

Back to Chicago

On Tuesday there is a trip into the city: Navy Pier at Chicago. Then an authentic Puerto Rican meal to. die. for. at Tami and Gerron’s church, provided by some ladies of the congregation. Sitting on the front stoop at the church, we get a taste of a busy Chicago neighborhood. The sounds, the smells, the accents – colorful and unique. Tami and Gerron are perfect there.

Before we part we have our standard Family-Mass, a time of worship and fellowship around Him whose mark on our lives keeps us one, Jesus Christ. It is informal, it is easy. I wish it really could be captured in a way everyone could experience it. Somehow, we just blend. We just are :: The Moslanders. The descendants of Ross and Norma Moslander, 4 generations of us, declaring God’s faithfulness from one generation to another.

In all my dad pastored in Des Moines, the Davenport, then a short time in Cedar Rapids, and a short time in Robert, Louisiana before we got to Gary, Indiana. I kinda call it home and Dan and Dawn are still there. And with all of us there, it felt like home. But home really is where my mom and dad are.

These are just a few of the moments, especially dedicated to my mom.

HOME is wherever I’m with you.

Posted in Celebrations & Festive Events, Home & Garden/Food & Seasons, JESUS, Lover of My Soul, Love & Marriage, Memories & Melancholy, Mi Familia, My Most Unforgettable People, Songs I am Singing, Stuff I Actually Think | 2 Comments »

Familia: Phipps

Thursday, August 11th, 2011

So, we met in WalMart.

I saw you wearing your bright turquoise “Are you IN?” Northern Hills Church t-shirts and you were so young and beautiful (I’d seen you in the hallways at church) I didn’t think we were really in your league, but I passed Wrex and said,

“Yes. We’re IN.”

Then you called out to us. And Stef, you won my heart wholly when you said, “You’re Tredessa’s mom: I want to be just like her when I grow up.” Of course I adored you both right away.

Then you helped birth Heaven Fest. You just came right in and became a part of this whole crazy thing. And we never want to do it without you…not ever!

Then you just became part of the gang, family parties and holidays and even let me be there when Baby Sawyer came along, just a little less than a year ago. And you helped me make our grandbebe Christmas cards and wrote us songs and just made yourselves a place deep in our hearts.

Then you had to leave.

There you are in Texas until the new job gives you permanent placement. Could be far, far away. Or closer. But it won’t be at the corner so close by, the place you were so near. We’re so proud of you for your courage to follow Father Abraham in a faith adventure with God – just going out into the holy wild to follow His plan, in faith believing. I know it is being credited to you as righteousness. We are so proud that you have made choices setting you up to know Him more, to follow Him more closely, to be His more wholly and to be and do all He has for your lives. And you have gone together, as one with Baby Sawyer. You are a family, full of love and hope.

So I hope you have left behind fears and tears and broken things. I hope you know it is good to leave behind old baggage and unfinished projects and half-grown gardens. Because this is from God, a fresh start in a new place. It is God and it is good.

We will always hold you close

Just know that we treasure you for the gift you were to us while you were here and you will never be replaced. Your generosity and kindness, your willingness to bear our burdens and laugh with us, too, have given you place in our hearts, in our home, around our table and in the familia.

Yes. You are IN.

My video for you and bebe.

Tags: stefane and wrex phipps
Posted in Memories & Melancholy, Mi Familia, My Most Unforgettable People, Stuff I Actually Think | 1 Comment »

H i d i n g Place // Song for a Sunday

Sunday, July 24th, 2011

You are my hiding place

You are my hiding place

You shall preserve me from trouble

And You shall compass me about

with songs of deliverence

What time I am afraid

I will trust in You.

Some days, I just pull out the old Hosanna! Ingrity Music and worship my head off. Couldn’t find a Youtube for this particular Hiding Place song, though the other You are My Hiding Place song that I also love like crazy is everywhere there.

But in looking, I also found this one. I sang this so much back in the day that people in our church liked to play it and say, “Hey, Tredessa (or whichever kid), - who is this singing?” “Mommy,” they’d say. I sang it that much. I’ll tell you something now, we’d have to drop it about 3 or 4 keys!

Wow I loved this song back then! Those late 1980s…

I Hear Angels

T W O songs for a Sunday! Sing with me!

Tags: hiding place, hosanna! music, i hear angels, songs, worship
Posted in Memories & Melancholy, Songs I am Singing, Stuff I Actually Think | No Comments »

Just My Imagination

Tuesday, July 19th, 2011

I probably started fantasizing about being a bride and being married right about the time I started having memories that would stay with me.

I am a romantic.

I love love and I love songs and stories and the energy of it. And as far back as I can remember, into that twinkly-gold-flecked-slightly-8mm-film memory haze of the early 1960s, I would imagine being married. At 3, naturally, the groom was a figment of my imagination, “Joe Penny.” During my daily nap-time at 3 or 4 years old, I would imagine being married to to this phantom Joe Penny and how my name would be “Jeanie Penny.” I imagined being a housewife, except all done on my little play kitchen, with my little play dishes, me in an apron, as would have have been indicated by the black and white movies of the time. Joe Penny would go to work daily while I puttered about in the kitchen and he would return home where fresh iced tea would await him.. Wouldn’t married life be lovely?

{Remember Joe Penny, the actor who emerged in popularity in the 80s? Well, there he is, I thought. My 4-year-old-fantasy husband. Yes, he would have done just fine.}

First comes love. Then comes marriage.

And as I got a little older, I still looked at boys for the suitable husbands with acceptable last names they might be. And I never thought about it in terms of us being grown up, no. Somehow I was certain if the adults around us would just support us a little, we would undoubtedly be able to have a very successful Leave-it-to-Beaver-home-in-the-suburbs existence. I was quite certain, even though I really had no interest in the domestic arts otherwise, if I could just marry the object of my current affections, I would be transformed into a virtuous and quite accomplished wife, dusting, cleaning, ironing and preparing dinner. Naturally, mature as I was, I also anticipated hand-holding and a kiss here and there.

Here is what girls do.

Am I supposed to reveal this? Is this a big secret? Well, I am telling.

So – there is a boy and you deem him cuter and sweeter and funnier than all the rest and he is nice to you and so you start writing his name on pieces of paper and eventually you write your name + his name and then the inevitable: your first name + his last name – you know, practicing, just in case you need to write a check with that name someday. Yes. This actually happened all the way back, from the time I could write. For from the youngest days, I knew Moslander was just too difficult a name to bear, so, since I can remember, I was auditioning possible names along with the cutest boys. Yes, I was. And that is common among romantic girls. Shocking, I know. But true. Feign to deny it, women!

Jeanie Rhoades.

So, as of this weekend, I will have been Jeanie Rhoades for 30 years. It has been much easier a name to carry and has been with me longer than Moslander was. For some reason this morning, I just started remembering all the possible names I might have ended up with if only my parents and some little boys’ parents would have understood that we were unusually mature for our ages and should have been allowed to set up house. Beginning in 1965, after the make-believe Joe Penny was no longer on my mind:

I might have been Jeanie Bricker. Kenny was in my Kindergarten class and had brown, curly hair and a few freckles and wore that brown terry-cloth tunic-style shirt with such panache.

In first grade, I would most assuredly have been Jeanie Sutherland, married to a tall, quiet, strong blond from a holiness family down the block. Danny often walked me home from school, protective, watching for cars as we crossed the street.

I could have ended up, during those grade school years, as Jeanie Sable or Jeanie Sandry. There were 2 entire years devoted to being Jeanie Gray, for Kevin was o-so-dashing as 3rd and 4th graders go, in his gray slacks and Hush Puppies.

First kiss: Jimmy Green. I would have been Jeanie Green, which is funny because of course now, my friends and fam all refer to my favorite shade of spring-green as Jeanie-green.

My junior high friends will know those years were all about being Jeanie Roby for the most adorable meaty, tall and charming president-of-the-student-body type and his size 13 shoes, Bill. How apropo that the song, “Billy Don’t Be a Hero…come back and make me your wife,” was playing on the top 40 stations of the time. Oh, he was a charmer and just so darn likable.

I could have ended up, had my silly girl fantasies and name-writing practice ever come to fruition, being, at various times and places, Jeanie Gonzales, Jeanie Smith, Jeanie Jenkins, Jeanie Dixon, Jeanie Martino (well, I mean – that actually almost did happen, a broken engagement), Jeanie Henderson, Jeanie Worley, Jeanie Carr, Jeanie Wells, Jeanie Mericsko and perhaps a few more. Perhaps.

But I am : Jeanie Rhoades.

That has worked out just fine. Still “playing house” with my husband, a Latino with a white man’s name. It turned out that Dave + Jeanie did not equal me being a domestic machine, duster in hand and dinner on the table at 6. And I only use an apron when Dave makes me (to save my clothes, people). But sometimes, our life is sorta like a black and white movie with a happy soundtrack, sunshine streaming through the windows, or a really hot scene from a 70s movie I wasn’t even supposed to see back then (shhh…don’t tell my parents), or a romantic comedy with a high-stress-level working girl from the 80s. Sometimes not. But mostly, crazy-good. And sweet.

You are my love, you are my life

Oh and I get high just holding you tight

We always dreamed we’d make a lot of money, o but

I don’t mind being poor

‘Cause when you make love to me, honey

I couldn’t ask for anymore

All our friends seem to be in a hurry

But darlin’ we’ll just keep on taking our time

We’re living such a sweet life, o what a neat life

Sharing my love with you

We’re living such a sweet life, o what a neat life

Making our dreams come true

We’re making our dreams come true…*

Dave + Jeanie = sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First came love, then came marriage (in less than 6 weeks-all of that!), then came 5 kids and growing up and marriages and 6 grandbebes in the baby carriage…so far…

I am not quite as “mature” and good at it as I thought I’d be. But I am learning. And it is better than I imagined.

Jeanie Rhoades.

*Paul Davis, “Sweet Life.”

THE NAMES HAVE NOT BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT. No way, Hosea. These are the real names, baby! They are innocent of any compliance or party to these imaginations. Their stories are their own. These are mine. *smile

Posted in Celebrations & Festive Events, Love & Marriage, Memories & Melancholy, Mi Familia, My Most Unforgettable People, Songs I am Singing, Stuff I Actually Think | 5 Comments »

Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair

Sunday, July 17th, 2011

My mom wanted a Debbie. My dad wanted a Jeanie. They compromised and named me Debra Jean, but I was called Jeanie from the moment I was born. My mom’s dad, my Grandpa Allison, called me Debbie Jean to make my mom happy.

But I was always Jeanie.

My dad said he knew who I’d be when he saw the Northern Tissue ads on billboards in 1959. “There is our Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair,” he’d tell my mom. She bought the set of posters by Frances Hook, an American artist whose friendly depictions of Jesus with children you would recognize.

The Northern Baby with light brown hair and blue eyes. And me. With the light brown hair.

The song.

So, a few times during my life, people have burst into song when they’ve lerned my name. The song is an oldie, written in the 1800s and has some quaint words. My parents chose the actual spelling of my name, which could have been spelled a bunch of different ways, from this old song. And though I have heard a gazillion renditions, I only just learned of this one. And I really like it. I finally feel like some one sang it like they meant it.

Having had red hair 18 out of the last 25 years and even brown-black hair for a year, I have been feeling a little frumpy with my return to a light brown (because I can’t stand the upkeep of red nor the constant attention to roots with dark hair). It is the least work. But it seems boring. Just plain old me again. Then Sam Cooke sings

I long for Jeanie with the daydawn smile,

Radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile;

I hear her melodies, like joys gone by,

Sighing round my heart o’er the fond hopes that die…

Aaah. I am in love! Thank-you, Sam Cooke! Suddenly ok with my hair color! O happy day.

Posted in Memories & Melancholy, Mi Familia, Songs I am Singing, Stuff I Actually Think, TV & Movies/Books & Entertainment | No Comments »

He Blogs!

Thursday, July 14th, 2011

I have the Joey-Joey-Joey-Joey down in my heart!

We were sailors once and we were young. Joe is just to my left.

My brother, Joe, is blogging now. CLICK HERE to read the real writer in the family!

Posted in Memories & Melancholy, Mi Familia, My Most Unforgettable People, Songs I am Singing, Stuff I Actually Think | No Comments »

Who Says You Can’t Go Home Again?

Saturday, July 2nd, 2011

The basement apartment in Des Moines, Iowa (1959); the Washington Street Apartment (Joe and Tim show up 1961 and 1963); 1310 York Street, just two houses down from Grandma and Grandpa Baker; then the beloved 1723 York Street across the alley from Nancy Lydon (Tami and Danny are born, 1965 and 1966); the Jersey Ridge Road house in Davenport (1971); then the brand new house we built at 5506 North Howell (1972); the corner parsonage in Cedar Rapids (1973); a parsonage right next to the church in Robert, Louisiana (1975); Finally – 4995 ROOSEVELT PLACE IN GARY (1977) - the last of the houses where we all, Ross-the-Boss, Mrs. Moss and all the Little Landers, dwelled together before leaving the sweet (Glen Park C of G parsonage) nest my parents had provided the 7 of us…

“I’ve been around the world and as a matter of fact”*

Dave and I have lived in a few places (Minot, ND; Kokomo, IN; Sioux City, IA; Norfolk, NE; Denver-forever), different houses. And my parents have been all over since I left their home, too (Hobart, IN; Willard, OH; Richmond, IN; St Joe-MO; Butte, MT; Springfield, MO; back to St Joe-MO). I visited my parents in their current digs in Saint Joe early in the year. The house they are living in? Not home. No. But my parents? Wherever they land, is kinda home to parts of me. I always need to know where they are and what their house looks like so I will know the space my heart is rambling about in. Mom and dad are the fixed stars in my sky. LOVE them!

God, it seems you’ve been our home forever; long before the mountains were born,

Long before you brought earth itself to birth,

from “once upon a time” to “kingdom come”—you are God. Psalms

“Goin’ back to Indiana” ~ The Jackson 5

While we were at the Moslander Family Reunion last week in Chicago and Northwest Indiana, us old-timers took a late-afternoon, impromptu drive through the old neighborhoods; saw places we had worked and schools we’d attended and the house we called home. It is all the same, but so different. The huge mountain spruce in the fron yard at 4995 Roosevelt Place, trimmed to above roofline and barely clinging to life now, was once a full, thick, green privacy wall between the house and street. There are pictures there of my brothers in their graduation attire and even my babies running on the lawn from way back when. The juniper has all been removed in favor of more manageable potted flora. The dings Tim and my other brothers put into the side of the house playing baseball in the 70′s are still there, a testament to long summer days spent with a bat and ball in hand.

And we actually were just a few blocks from the Jackson family home in Gary, Indiana, btw!

The streets of Gary used to be positively frightening during business hours, the traffic heavier than the city had prepared for. The business district I used to drive is nearly a ghost town. Boarded up windows and abandoned buildings everywhere, yet minutes away, there are still quiet neighborhoods with established lawns and trees. You can buy a beautiful brick bungalow for $15,000 (the for sale signs made of cardboard and black marker) there on an empty street. The same would cost 1.3 million in Denver.

“Who says you can’t go home again?” ~ Bon Jovi*

Surprisingly, standing there in the old yard, looking at the house in conjunction with neighboring homes and recalling old times and people from the past, it didn’t seem smaller. Often you’ll return to a childhood haunt and you’ll just feel like, “Wow-this seems so small now.” But that wasn’t the case at the Roosevelt Street house, the last home we all shared under one roof, the place my kids remember going to see Grandma and Grandpa Moslander. It really didn’t seem smaller.

It just seemed like: wow-how did this house ever hold all the life and loud love and laughter and memory and family and patio swimming in a 12-foot pool and Uno, all the huge bags full of 19-cent White Castle burgers after church ball games, or Bronco’s Pizza with 5 pounds of melted, dripping, greasy cheese, and church friends and Lake-effect wind and graduations and marriages and teen-agers and letter writing and boyfriends and girlfriends and Lake-effect snow and family altar and family feuds and kids and toys and books and WGN afternoon movies with our first color TV, first jobs and rusted out cars and Tip Top and Bible study and early morning prayer and first grandchildren and the first few spouses and all the rest of living that the Moslander family brought to it?